\" She tried not to stare at Shari who had resumed 11 sipping the drugged cocoa. ’ ‘But I have told you I have not another dagger, even a little one. ” Her father’s irony deepened. He could not permit her to remain in that position. This gloom was impossible. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. He raised her to a sitting position. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Her tone was icy. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Rollo began to cavort.
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